Homeless, Forsaken, Betrayed and Alone
by Ellex
Summary: She felt like she was about to burst with rage.' Missing scene from Season 2: 'The Lost Boys'.


Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis is not owned by me, nor do I make any material profit from this story.

Graciously beta'ed by the amazing and talented PurpleYin.

All feedback and reviews are read eagerly and with great appreciation. Thank you to all the sweet and wonderful people who haveleft such lovely comments on my other stories. (((group hug)))

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Teyla could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people she truly trusted to watch her back, those who had never betrayed her, and still have her thumb left over: Weir, Sheppard, McKay, and Beckett.

Even her own people now regarded her with suspicion, both for spending so much time with the people from Earth, and for her Wraith heritage. Never mind that the Wraith DNA was something she had possessed all along, or that her extra sense had saved her peoples' lives on many occasions. And despite the new Atlantean's efforts to help her people, despite their generosity and their willingness to do everything they could to preserve the Athosian way of life, there was still much mistrust. Some Athosians had chosen to return to the city of the Ancestors, to learn the way of the Earth people and the secrets of the Ancients. But they remained cautious and insular, and were themselves already viewed with suspicion by those on the mainland.

She had to admit to herself that there were many of the Earth people she didn't know well enough to give her trust to. The arrival of their great ship, the Daedalus, had brought a huge influx of people to the vast city, still mostly empty. She had known most of the original expedition members by sight, if not by name. She missed the familiarity and the close sense of camaraderie. Now there were enough people for small groups and clusters to form, for rivalries to emerge, and for the dubious safety of the city's shield to cause false bravado and desperate overconfidence to emerge in certain people.

In Ronon Dex, she thought she had seen a fellow exile, but they had barely known each other any time at all before he used their emerging friendship to achieve revenge on the man who had, in turn, betrayed him. She trusted in his abilities, in his strength – but she could not trust his heart.

She had trusted Ford. That betrayal hurt the most. She could no longer excuse his violent, irrational behavior. The deliberate manipulation and lies he perpetrated on her and her teammates had been pre-meditated and intentional, and were therefore unforgivable.

Over the last few days, much of her attention had been taken up in trying to adjust to the incredible sensation of almost limitless strength and power – and, she had to admit to herself, lust – the Wraith enzyme produced in her. If she hadn't been so conflicted by alternating terror and delight, she might have realized sooner how deeply Ford's betrayal ran. But her emotions flared constantly, making rational thought nearly impossible as her body responded to every demand she placed on it, and as it made demands of its own. Her pulse beat heavily between her thighs every time she looked at Ronon, distracting her even more. Physical attraction cared nothing for trust.

She had not been able to hide her attraction to him, her desire to be mastered by him, to subdue him in return. She loved every intense second of it, even as she was frightened by the loss of control, right up until the point where the drug began to wear off. She had never felt anything like the withdrawal, and it had not even been allowed to progress very far. She thought that perhaps now she understood McKay a little better: the nervous tension, the anxiety and paranoia she had felt reminded her instantly of him.

Even now, trapped in this small, cramped cell on the hiveship, she was already anticipating the long, slow slide back down off the high of the drug. It would make itself known subtly at first: a niggling sense that something was wrong, that there was something she needed. At first the craving would be no more than the idle desire she might feel for the sweets her mother used to make, or for the chocolate brought from Earth. In a few hours it would build into a need that blocked out all other thoughts from her mind and left her almost crying for another dose of the drug. Almost ready to die for it. Almost ready to kill for it.

Her face felt hot, the skin across her brow tight and aching, a drop of sweat trickling down her spine despite the cool air of the hiveship. She suppressed the urge to kick Ronon, sprawled unconscious on the floor. Defying the Wraith who had come for Sheppard had been foolish and short-sighted, a reckless display of male pride. If, by some extraordinary chance, they could escape from the cell, he would be a dead weight slowing them down.

Movement caught her eye, and she looked up from her irritated contemplation of Ronon to see Ford pacing restlessly back and forth across the cell. His men pressed against the walls, trying to keep out of his way.

Her discontent swelled up from her belly, hateful and vicious, making her want to lash out – not just at Ford, for getting them into this situation, but at Ford's men, as well, for being slow and poorly trained. She was far too used to the well-practiced proficiency of the Marines on Atlantis. She was angry at Ronon, for his useless defiance, at Rodney for not being here to get the door open, even at Sheppard, for not being able to control the Wraith Dart better. She knew her anger skirted the edge of unreason, and that only fueled it further.

Ford muttered as he paced, and she caught part of his mumbled ranting. He was blaming Sheppard for their failure, for their imprisonment and almost inevitable death at the hands of the Wraith.

She felt like she was about to burst with fury, boiling up inside her until she thought it would split her open like an overripe fruit. Her self-control dissolved before the rage, and she leaped at Ford, fists and feet hammering him with blow after blow. Caught by surprise, he could barely defend himself, much less strike back. The difference in their physical strength was made less extreme by her ingestion of the enzyme; her greater skill, experience in hand-to-hand combat, and the abruptness of her attack combined to allow her to render him insensible in mere seconds. She whirled to face the others, who stared in dismay at their fallen leader and showed no sign of wanting to take her on.

Still needing an outlet for her fury, she threw herself at the stiff, angular bars of the door to the cell. She focused her blows on one shaft, feeling no pain when blood began to flow down her arms and spatter the floor. The bar fractured, but she didn't notice until the web-like door shuddered and sprang apart.

Deprived of a target, at first she could only stand there, panting heavily before the unexpectedly open doorway. Reason returned slowly, edging out the haze of rage. There were things that needed doing, and while Teyla was happy to follow when she could trust the person she was following, it was now long past time to take charge. She turned to the men who gaped uncomprehendingly at her from the back of the cell.

"We are getting off this ship," she growled. "You and you," she pointed to two of them at random and gestured at the inert forms of Ronon and Ford, "help them. Get them to the Dart hangar and wait. The rest of you, come with me. We are going to find Colonel Sheppard and free him, so that he may fly us out of here." They hesitated just a little too long, and she snarled, "Now!" They flinched, but jumped to obey.

The enzyme was strong within her now, taking away all fear and weakness. She felt like she could take on every Wraith on the ship and win. Sheppard _would_ be freed, they _would_ escape the Hive ship, retrieve McKay, return to Atlantis. She might be homeless, Athos destroyed by the Wraith; she might be forsaken by her own people; she might have been betrayed by her friends; but she would not be alone. Not for long.

fin


End file.
